


Firewater

by obscureshipyard



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Boys Kissing, Drinking, Firehusbands, Happy Ending, M/M, One Night Stands, Physical Disability, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Acceptance, or maybe more than one night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:07:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24099310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obscureshipyard/pseuds/obscureshipyard
Summary: Thoros Myr just wanted to drink the night away, then Beric Dondarrion, aka Prince Charming, just *had* to burst in and ruin his life by being beguiling and funny and sweet and for some reason taking a shine to Thoros. The Red God save him, what's a guy to do?Apparently give in completely and have an amazing night of passion. As if you were here for the plot ,':-)
Relationships: Beric Dondarrion/Thoros of Myr
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

"Mind if I sit?" A voice cuts over the music incessantly buzzing from speakers on an empty stage at the far side of the room. Thoros shifts in his seat but doesn't bother looking up from his practiced task of counting the multicolored liquor bottles on the other side of the bar. The voice sounds smooth and deep. No one with a voice like that would be talking to a barfly like him on purpose. Thoros questions why someone would choose the seat directly next to him with only two other people sitting at the far end of the bar well away from his scruffy self.

"All yours." He gestures with a lazy sway of his wrist before honing back in on the last few sips of whiskey in his glass. He prefers to savor the first drink of the evening knowing full well he won't remember anything but the familiar taste of stomach acid and misery by morning. His hands feel unsteady and tension pulls his shoulders up close to his ears.

"What's your name?" Comes the voice again. _Not just looking for a seat, then_. Thoros freezes for a moment, not trusting that someone would willingly be approaching him. He knew what he looked like. He could see how grey was over taking the red of his receding hair, how the smile lines around his eyes and mouth were now a permanent fixture no matter how he felt. _Must be selling something_ , he decides, and quickly throws back the rest of his drink. He turns towards the stranger, and nearly chokes.

The stranger stands closer than Thoros anticipates, but there’s an air about him that is relaxed rather than invasive. Thoros’s eyes are drawn to the man’s right eye which is covered by a patch with a gnarled scar running from his forehead down his cheek. Whatever Thoros's brain had thought to come up with as a mouthy retort was completely lost. Instead he works to quickly take in every detail, from his inviting smile to the dirty blond hair of his trimmed beard. Every inch of him reminds Thoros of a dashing hero from some old movie he adored in childhood. A wide, solid chest shields Thoros from the rest of the bar. His clothes are darkly toned and just tight enough to be flattering. Thoros feels jealousy burn through him as hotly as attraction.

"Thoros," he manages to squeak out after what he prays wasn't too long a pause.

"Lovely name, and a pleasure to meet you, Thoros. I'm Beric." The handsome stranger politely extends his hand. Thoros looks around for the cameras, or the table of beautiful people from which Beric must have wandered. Clearly, this is some sort of twisted joke.

"Good to meet you...Beric." Thoros responds slowly hoping to see the reason behind this man's presence if he speaks slow enough. Thoros finally gives in and shakes Beric's hand. It feels warm and comfortable. How can a handshake from a stranger feel so intimate and welcoming. Thoros blinks a few times to tear his eyes away from Beric's gaze. He pulls his hand free and turns his body back to face the bar.

"Come here often?" Thoros can hear a chuckle in his new companion's voice. It makes his skin burn hot. He’s fairly certain Beric isn’t laughing at him but has no other idea how he could be making a man like Beric smile. Thoros tastes blood from how hard he bites the inside of his cheek. Beric keeps quiet as he hails the bartender and settles gracefully into the seat next to Thoros. With a few flicks of his wrist and a nod, two partially filled glasses slide before him. Thoros notes how quickly the beautiful man is served with a furrow of his brow. It's not even that late into the evening but it still took a short eternity for the bartender to bring Thoros his usual when he first arrived. Beric places the glass of amber liquid in front of Thoros without a word.

"Come here more than I probably should, I suppose." Thoros acquiesces to the cheesy pick up line.

"Let me guess - you can't resist the atmosphere?" Not only can Thoros hear the smile in Beric's voice but he can nearly feel the tempting warmth of it like sunshine on his skin. Thoros glares at his drink searching for the answer. Never in his life has he been chatted up at a bar. Beric had to be selling something. Thoros debates within himself. He could leave, find another bar. But retreat hardly seems fair. He literally spent months rotting his liver away on the very stool he now sits. He spends as much time here as his own bed. It isn't home but feels about as close as he was going to get. Thoros considers engaging, flirting back. He could let Beric get to know the kind of man he is trying to cozy up to and watch the regret mar those pretty features.

"It's serviceable, hard to beat a bar in walking distance from my apartment." _Or stumbling distance, really._ Thoros takes a drink from his glass. It burns sweeter than what he was drinking before. While fighting down feelings that tasted too much like hope he settles in to pretend he's a normal person capable of affability.

"Ah, makes sense. So, you live around here." Beric man takes a long pull from his own drink. Thoros watches his Adam's apple bob in his muscular neck. Another rush of heat colors Thoros's pale skin. The sour combination of attraction and frustration returns. Where did this guy get off having an attractive neck? Prince Charming, with his rakish good looks and winning smile, just touting his perfection to ruin Thoros's nightly pity party. It makes him want to clock Beric right in his perfect, square jaw. Of course, it also makes him want to kiss and lick and bite that very same jaw and see what it takes to make Beric moan.

"Not from here, but I live here." Thoros ran through the laundry list of things humans liked to talk to each other about in his head; where they grew up, what they do, weather, sports, politics. They are all topics likely to keep Beric smiling and talking, but it all sounds so boring Thoros has no idea how to even begin.

"Hm, same for me. It serves as much as any other place." Beric fills the quiet between them. Thoros just stares ahead. He finds it impossible to think of going back to silently ignoring the man, but he’s lost on how to fill the gap of silence without immediately ruining everything. "It seems we both need a refill. Can I buy you another round?" Beric looks to Thoros for his response.

"Don't have to twist my arm." He manages to get out before too long a pause. The bartender serves them quickly tossing Beric a smile and not even looking Thoros's way. He didn't blame the man. If Thoros had the choice between looking at Beric or himself it wouldn't even be a question.

"Are you waiting for someone?" Thoros asks after their drinks are served.

"Not anymore." Beric's smile is devilish sin. It makes Thoros's heart skips a beat. The tips of his ears start to burn. He silently curses his ginger light complexion that is likely broadcasting his blushing response. "But truthfully, no, I just came out to get a drink, or, well... very drunk, and relax. Forget about life for a bit. Am I interrupting your plans?" The honest curiosity in his voice rankles Thoros's nerves but he decides to take it at face value.

"Was just planning on sitting here and drinking all night." His words bring another grin to Beric's face and a rush of butterflies to Thoros's gut knowing he was the reason for that pleasure. Thoros feels like laughing at what a pitiful fool he is.

"That sounds absolutely lovely. Would it be terrible of me to intrude?" Thoros watches him swallow another gulp of whisky. A darting pink tongue swipes over Beric's lips and Thoros just barely holds in a groan.

"You're the one who would have to be putting up with me. Don't say I didn't warn you if I start rambling on about work or something and you die from boredom." Thoros warns. He feels the pleasant warm sway of the alcohol finally entering his blood stream. Beric was likely catching up quickly based on the empty glasses now in front of him. Thoros isn't used to keeping track of how fast other people were drinking. Was Beric tipsy or just putting on a show?

"That terrible, ay? Well, if we get drunk enough then we should have no trouble keeping each other amused." Beric speaks into his drink. "What do you do for work, Thoros?" The man's earnest words make Thoros's hackles rise. He finds himself in even greater danger of thinking Beric is truly interested.

"Writer, not a reporter or that ilk. I do historical research, theology mostly. I've been published in a few journals and quoted in some textbooks. Lots of stuff no one ever reads about older stuff no one's read in centuries." Thoros notices how close they are leaning together on the bar. Their chairs are facing each other, bodies sitting like mirror images as they speak. He notices, but doesn't move away.

"Oh yeah, totally boring. Christ's sake, I thought you were going to say you work in sales, or something, the post office, I don't know." They both burst out in laughter. Thoros likes Beric’s laugh, it’s deep and musical. "That actually sounds fascinating. Ancient tomes at risk of fading into obscurity forever, if not for you to save them." It sounds so much better coming out of Beric's mouth, _the bastard._

"You're romanticizing it. I get paid to read and regurgitate, but it mostly pays the bills and then I get to go out at night and drink myself stupid." Thoros tips his head and raises his glass.

"You are not stupid, and I _am_ a romantic." Beric sways moving his body in close enough for Thoros to feel his warmth. Beric smells like cedar.

"And what does a romantic do for work?" He watches Beric's face closely. He finds the small lines that form just above his beard fascinating. Beric must have dimples, Thoros wants to swoon.

"I'm retired. Former military." Beric breaks eye contact for the first time of the evening. Even with his limited social skills Thoros can tell it's a sensitive topic. _Don't go there,_ he warns himself.

"Is that where you got that." The words are out before he can stop them. Thoros feels his eyes glued to the scar and patch on Beric's face even though his vision is slightly hazy. He wants to take it back, tell himself to stop, take it back. But the words are out and Thoros watches in mild horror as Beric responds.

"Occupational hazard." Beric frowns at his empty glass but continues to speak. "IED shrapnel. I was a soldier once. Been one most of my life, but now..." His one gray-blue eye looks glazed over and far away. A deep wave of regret rushes through Thoros's stomach.

"You're out forever and it feels like life's lost all meaning." Thoros finishes for him. A huff shakes Beric's shoulders as he stares at the glossy wooden surface of the bar.

"More than you know." Beric agrees slowly. He wipes a hand firmly over his dark blonde beard as he takes a deep breath.

"Cheers to that." Thoros holds up two freshly filled glasses. Beric takes his with a light brushing of fingertips. The momentary contact feels like fire. Silently they sip and sit back from each other. Thoros braces for the brush off. He knows he ruined the mood and any chance he had with his strange Prince Charming. Yet somehow, Thoros finds himself completely unprepared for how much he regrets dimming Beric's smile. Thoros braces himself on the bar for a clumsy attempt to apologize.

"Do you want to get out of here?" Beric’s hand lands softly on Thoros. Not for the first time Thoros finds himself choking on his words.

"What?" He manages to belt out.

"I don't want to spend all night dancing around awkward topics and crying into my drink." Beric leans in close. He searches Thoros's face before locking in on his eyes. "I want to be happy, and drunk, and I want to go home with you." His hand sits warm and heavy against Thoros’s skin.

"But, you're gorgeous, and personable, and _nice,_ and you look like you just wandered off from a GQ photo shoot. Why would you want to go anywhere with me?" The urge to either balk or accept battle within his chest.

"You have a rather low opinion of yourself, Thoros." Beric says.

"Of course, I do, I _know me._ " Beric's peals of laughter move closer to Thoros until their knees and hands touch. It still feels like fire.

"You're far more alluring than you give yourself credit for." Thoros huffs but Beric cuts him off before he interrupts. "Your eyes are devastating. I've never seen eyes so blue. You're fit, and you don't show it off. You're not an asshole, just a guy sitting quietly alone at a bar wanting to drink himself stupid and not bother anyone. And I do love gingers." A wicked smile turns Beric's tempting lips up in the most delicious angle.

"Fuck, you're serious." Thoros's mind is racing too fast for him to keep up. He wants to speak. He wants to know the right thing to say. A small voice like morality stings from the back of his skull reminding him he shouldn’t fuck gorgeous strangers for some reasons he can’t recall.

“If you're not interested, it's okay. I suppose I'm being fairly ridiculous, propositioning you so soon after we met." Beric's body remains near but he looks away.

“Wait, hold on. I didn't say no. Yes, I mean yes, let's get out of here, absolutely, now is good. Let's go now.” Thoros shoves his glass back onto the bar but Beric beats him to standing. He quickly pulls on his coat. Thoros nearly jumps out of his skin at the sight of the bartender suddenly in front of them behind the bar. Beric hands over his credit card with a smile and within moments they were settled. Thoros fights the urge to grind his teeth at how quickly his companion gets service, but then remembers exactly what they are leaving the bar for and feels a lot less frustrated.

"I need to pay as well." He reaches for his back pocket only to have his hand be intercepted by Beric's warm grip.

"I already covered you, figured since I was costing you your evening of drinking in peace, I should be the one to pay for it." Beric tugs Thoros playfully away from the bar.

"You don't have to do that." Thoros helplessly follows.

"Make it up to me." He teases.

"And how should I do that?" Beric leans in close, pressing his chest to Thoros's shoulder. They stand still surrounded by people and lights and music but the only thing Thoros can focus on is Beric's lips whispering close to his ear.

"Make me come so hard I scream." Thoros stumbles as Beric pulls away to walk towards the exit. He rushes after him dodging all other patrons and chairs. More than a few sets of wandering eyes follow Beric to the door. Thoros isn't familiar with being someone others are jealous of. Once he thought himself above feelings like pride, but now that he knows he is the one taking Beric home, he realizes just how good it feels.


	2. Chapter 2

Thoros breathes in a chest full of crisp night air. His head feels light from the alcohol. He feels comfortable standing on the familiar blocks of pavement outside of the bar. The two lane street crawls with cars and a steady flow of pedestrians moving along the avenue. Thoros puts his hands in his pockets and keeps his eyes low.

"If I recall correctly you mentioned your apartment was in walking distance?" Beric stands close to Thoros's side amid the flow of people.

"Fuck, you're still real." Thoros blinked in the harsh lighting from the lampposts and headlights. He smiles as his brain scrambles to figure out how to process his sudden change in fortune. Not more than two hours ago he was just a lonely drunk at a bar. Now Beric is standing before him waiting to be taken home.

"Flattery will get you everywhere." Beric wraps a solid arm around Thoros's waist and pulls him close. Thoros's breath catches but Beric stops short of kissing him. "Lead the way."

It's a short walk down a dark lane away from the main thoroughfare. Thoros moves quickly and tries not to gaze over at Beric too much. He doesn’t want to scare the man off but he can still hardly control his excitement. The minutes that pass as they walk down the street feel infinite. They quickly pass rows of matching single-family homes. The houses sit right up against the street in various states of repair. Thoros appreciates the neighborhood for its lack of curb appeal. He finds it to be a nice balance of neighbors who care just enough about their own lives to keep the street neat but not enough to ever single anyone out for not keeping up with daily yard work. The mutual agreement of all the neighbors to leave each other alone made Thoros comfortable enough to stay.

"Thoros, I hope you don't mind my asking but have you ever taken a man home before?" Beric says haltingly as they make a left and continue down the road.

"It's been a while since I've taken anyone anywhere. But, in my younger days, I took everyone and anyone if they were willing." Thoros stopped at a short set of steps that met the sidewalk. "So, this is it." Beric turns to take in the small house. Leafy vines crawl over the white awnings nearly obscuring the paint from view. The steps lead to a porch that leans heavily against the front of the house. Beric follows Thoros up to the front door, smiling at the vines hanging like curtains and closing in the space around them.

"I like this. It's private. Outside, but it's just yours." Thoros nods before fumbling for his keys. Just as his hand touches the small ring of keys in his coat pocket Beric pulls him flush against his body in the dark. "I want to kiss you." He whispers as their noses brush lightly. The humid air thickens, making it hard to breathe. Thoros's body gives in to the beckoning of the other man's heat. It starts off dry and slow. Once Thoros relaxes the kiss changes just slightly to barely open lips teasing each other. Thoros melts into Beric's arms, more drunk from their kiss than the whiskey.

The sound of keys hitting the wooden panels of the floor break the moment. Beric leans down to retrieve them as Thoros heaves in a gasp of air. His skin feels hot again. Pushing down the rising waves of self-doubt, Thoros unlocks the door and walks inside. Beric follows, feeling like a wall of heat behind him with how close he's standing. Thoros flips on the nearest lamp and prays the lower lighting will be forgiving. It's not that his house is in shambles but every fiber of his being wants to keep Beric interested. He bites his tongue to keep from making excuses about the piles of books and papers. Stacks of old filing boxes threatening to collapse press up against his kitchen table-turned writing desk that is littered with handwritten notes and half-forgotten ideas.

 _Small talk,_ he reminds himself, _or did one need to continue the small talk after they brought their intended lover home?_ Thoros wasn't lying when he said this wasn't his first time with a man. He was quite wild in his younger years, so much so he had never taken anyone to his actual home before, usually sex didn't even require a bed let alone an invasion of his personal space.

"Don't worry, Thoros, I'll spare you from giving me the grand tour. I'm much more interested in your bedroom." Beric takes Thoros's hand. With a small smile Beric remains still just holding Thoros's hand and watching him.

"It's just through here." Thoros gently pulls Beric towards his bedroom at the back of the house. He grates his teeth at the feeling of looking at his home with a stranger's eye. He wishes his room was less messy, that the books were on the shelves rather than the floor, that his clothes made it all the way into the hamper rather than the area around it. The feeling of Beric's body presses gently against Thoros's back. He feels the other man lower his face to Thoros's neck.

"We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with." Beric's deep voice and strong arms wrap around Thoros. The silence holds steady between them. Beric gently kisses the warm skin of Thoros's neck. Thoros's pulse beings to gallop. The worries in his head settle to stillness. He knows what he wants.

He wants the gorgeous, sweet man standing in his bedroom. All other thought is lost as Thoros turns and grabs the front of Beric's shirt. He devours Beric's mouth. They battle with lips and tongue in the low light of the lamp. Beric turns them to press Thoros up against the bare wall next to the bed. The world is narrowed down to the feeling of wet heat and desire. Hands move slowly feeling contours of muscle. Thoros grabs a hold of Beric's shoulders and digs in to feel the muscles clenching under his fingertips. Beric responds with a groan. His own hands slide under Thoros's shirt to feel the warm skin beneath.

"Thoros." Beric manages to say between kisses. His hips thrust forward pressing Thoros firmly into the wall.

"Hmmm?" He hums contentedly, head swimming. He can feel Beric's arousal hard against his own.

"I want you to fuck me." Beric dives in for another biting kiss before Thoros can respond. Not many words come to mind at that moment other than fuck yes. Still, their kisses linger. Neither rush to separate. Beric lights something bright and strong within Thoros's chest and he doesn't want to let it go. They move clumsily to the bed, shedding clothes along the way. Beric's body makes Thoros's mouth water at each new inch of skin revealed. There are scars he might ask about later but now he just wants to lick and suck at each to make Beric moan. They land with a thud on the messy sheets of Thoros's bed. Thoros reaches for the last scrap of cloth keeping Beric covered, his eye patch. A hand shoots up to stop him.

"You don't have to." For the first time Beric was able to see doubt and shame color Beric's face. Instead of arguing Thoros gently peeled the scrap of fabric back. Beric squeezes his left eye closed. His body stays tense, but he doesn't move away.

"Still prettier than me." Thoros gently strokes his fingers along Beric's cheekbone. The scar is thick and bumpy under his fingertips. He watches closely as Beric takes in a shuddering breath.

"I'm not pretty... not like this." Beric turns his face away.

"No? Now who's the one with the low opinion of himself." Thoros gently turns Beric's face back to look straight into the eyes of his lover. "You are gorgeous." He kisses his scar, his cheek, his nose, his lips. Beric is slow to respond and closes his eye again, but kisses Thoros back. Hands return to searching skin. Beric's leg wraps around Thoros's waist.

"I've got lube. Can I open you up?" Thoros whispers into Beric's neck.

"Yes." Beric hisses as Thoros's strong fingers squeeze the thick meat of Beric's ass. Thoros reaches blindly for the bedside table and pulls open the drawer. He grabs the bottle of lube and coats his first two fingers. Beric does his best to playfully distract his lover with kisses and short thrusts of his hips. Thoros pushes Beric down with a firm hand at the center of his chest. They gaze at each other closely with hungry eyes as Thoros places his fingers at Beric's hole. At the same time his opposite hand strokes a gentle pace on Beric’s dick, sure and slow. Thoros takes his time teasing the opening with a steady, circling pressure. Beric is the first to break, letting his head fall back. Thoros watches his gorgeous lover for any signs of discomfort as he pushes his first finger inside. But Beric just looks like a dream with his writhing hips and open mouth. His groans echo like music.

They move slowly, stopping often to kiss and explore. Thoros marvels at the way Beric clenches around his fingers when he bites at Beric's perfect pink nipples or twists his opposite hand right at the head of Beric’s dick. His own dick throbs against Beric's thigh but he's having far too much fun torturing Beric to worry after himself. He moves his fingers in deep and flexes them up, searching. When he finds Beric's prostate, the man nearly jumps off the bed. He grabs Thoros's forearm to hold him in place. With wicked glee, Thoros rubs until Beric's back looks like it's about to snap from how hard he arches off the mattress.

"Fuck! Fuck me. Now. Please." Thoros grabs a condom from the drawer and tears it open with his teeth and free hand. He does his best to keep a steady pace fucking his fingers in Beric's hole. Beric blinks quickly as he catches his breath before taking the condom away from Thoros. He gives his lover's cock a few firm strokes before rolling the condom on and pulling up at the tip. Thoros sucks in air to keep himself grounded as Beric pours lube into his hand and returns to stroking his cock.

Beric's grip is firm and his wrist is at the perfect angle to twist with each pull. Even through the condom, it brought Thoros to the edge.

"Thoros, kiss me." The words ring as more of a plea than a command, but it might as well have been a direct order with how incapable Thoros is to resist. He leans down over Beric to take his mouth. His cock bottoms out in Beric's tight, well-lubed passage making both men groan. Thoros's hips roll languidly, cautious of his lover's comfort. He slowly pulls out, then back in deeper, forcing each thrust hard from his hips. He grinds his teeth to keep it slow. Beric shudders beneath him and moans at each thrust driving Thoros to the very edge of sanity.

They breathe each other in, completely connected. Beric's arm wraps tightly around Thoros's shoulders holding him in place while his other hand strokes his own cock. Thoros hitches Beric's knees around his waist and aims to fuck directly over that sensitive spot to make his lover come.

"Thoros, yes, fuck, yes, right there, yes!" Beric's body goes rigid with release and a silent scream that rips something in Thoros asunder. He latches his mouth over Beric's and swears he feels his soul pouring out rather than just his seed. The world whites out as their bodies tremble and collapse into each other.

Thoros falls to his side on the bed pulling free from his lover. He floats on endorphins, transported but still firmly where he lay. Beric's strong arms wrap tight to hold him close. Sweat dries on their skin but neither are cold with the other pressed close.

"Thoros," Beric sighs. "You definitely made up for the drinks."


End file.
